The Sound of Russia's Clock
by Strawberriesftw
Summary: Just a mini-fanfic about a woman, one of my OCs, who is captured by Ivan/Russia and tortured.
1. Here I am

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

What time is it? I have no idea. It's hard to look at a clock when you're blindfolded.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

How long have I been here?

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

It's been more than four hours, I'm sure. I've been listening to the clock for so long now...

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick...

The clock stopped. Why? Is he here again? Is he going to beat me? I feel his gloved hand on my arm, his fingers tracing up to my shoulder. He murmurs into my ear. "You look tired; you should get sleep, da?"

I hear him giggle as he traces his hand along my thigh. I have no energy to scream anymore...Nobody will hear me. Nobody will care if they do hear me.

I feel his rough lips against my trembling jaw line. Why won't he stop? I'm just a citizen, why does he want me here? Me of all people?

I hate him. I hate him so much, I despise his very soul. That is, if he does have a soul. No, he has no soul at all...

His lips move in a line along my neck, leaving rough purple marks all over my skin. I make a very soft whimper. Big mistake.

"Do you like what I do?" He questioned. His voice was sweet and seemingly kind, but I could clearly hear the dark and horrible undertones.

He roughly presses his lips to mine, shoving his tongue past the barrier of my lips. I squirm and whimper, but it is no use against him. Many things cross my mind and I finally decide. I harshly bite down on his tongue that was so rudely invading my mouth.

A small cry of pain sounds in the back of his throat and he pulls away. I can hear the anger in his quick breaths. Here it comes. Here comes my punishment.

Before I can even half-heartedly apologize, I feel his fist against my cheek. It hurts so badly, but I know not to scream. There will be more punishment if I anger him even more. I can now feel that I am horizontal on the floor, I can also feel the hot feeling of blood running past my lips.

That feeling is all too familiar.

"Lay there. Don't move and don't make a sound. Sleep."

I hear his footsteps fade away and it is replaced by the sound of the clock again. I want oh so desperately to do as he says, every fiber of my being wants to shut off and recharge for what's in store for tomorrow. But I can't help but listen to that clock again.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

I have to get out of here.

**AN; Who thinks I should continue this?**


	2. Games

**AN; Yay for writing while you're half awake~!**

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

It's a new day…I think. I didn't sleep very long.

That damn clock is just too loud.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

I can't hear him yet, but I do know he will be here soon. What's in store for today? Will he be using his pipe today? A vodka bottle? Or just his fists?

I fear the worst at this point.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

I can hear his footsteps creaking down the stairs, much louder than the clock.

Creak. Creak. Creak.

"Are you awake?" He asks before taking a fistful of my hair and pulling me to my feet. A shockwave of pain runs through my entire body, I can't help but allow a tiny cry to pass through my lips.

I can almost hear him grin at this point. "This is good, da?" he smoothly murmurs into my ear as he roughly grabs my forearm "We are going to play a game,"

Oh no. No, no, no! Please, no, anything but one of his horrible games!

He can sense my fear, I bet he can read my mind. A creepy giggle comes from the back of his throat. "You like Russia's games, da?"

I don't answer. I don't want to answer.

His grip on my arm tightens and I let out a whimper. "Da?" he repeats himself. I can feel his gloved nails nearly digging into my skin. "Y-Yes…" I manage to stutter.

I feel his hand let go of my arm and there is only silence.

My fear begins to rise. Is he getting the pipe? Please tell me he isn't getting the pipe. Anything but the…

My thoughts are cut off by the searing pain of an empty vodka bottle smacking into my hip. Then to my side; then to my other hip and my thigh. The bottle breaks and I can feel the broken glass digging into my skin.

This is the part of the game. I have to sit here and see how long it takes before I make any kind of noise of pain. When I make a noise, I lose.

If I make a noise, he will leave the glass in there for much longer. If I go on for long enough, he will pick it all out and bandage the wounds.

He doesn't know this, but I am good at this game.

I just listen to the clock again.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

This game is so much easier when I have a distraction.

I can hear his breaths. They are steady and even. I can feel his eyes boring holes into me.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

"You are getting good at this game…." He comments as he continues to stare at me.

All I can offer is a nod.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

It feels like an hour has passed, I can't even feel the pain in my hip anymore. Is the glass still there? Or has it melted into me? I can't tell anymore.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

"Alright," he says quietly. I can hear him stand up and his footsteps get close "I will take the glass out now. Toris will be down later to bring you food, I have work to do."

The pain becomes unbearable as he plucks the glass from my skin. Whimpering is allowed at this point, so I do my best to abuse that right.

He roughly rubs my cheek with the back of his hand as if to soothe me. I still hate him. That hand brings me only pain and never comfort.

I feel the bandages being put on my wound and a sense of relief washes over me. It feels so much better now. "…Thank you."

Did I just say that? I can't believe I would say that to a monster like him.

He just laughs and stands and the sound of him in the room is replaced by only the sound of the clock.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Someone help me.


	3. Food

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

I wonder how long it's been since he left the room. An hour? Half an hour? Who knows?

All I can hear is that damn clock.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

That stupid thing is driving me insane. No. Scratch that thought. /He/ is driving me insane. Every time I hear his footsteps or his voice, I feel as if my sanity is still slipping away. Every moment down here wherever I am is complete and total torture.

I wonder where what's-his-name is with my food. I knew that was an empty promise, I'm not getting fed tonight. This doesn't come as a surprise to me.

Oh well…

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

I send a glare towards that annoying clock. Why is it so loud!

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

On shaky feet, I stand and limp towards the sound of that clock. Where is it? I'll smash that damn thing to pieces!

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

It's mocking me now, isn't it?

"You'll never get out of this place" is what's probably on its nonexistent mind.

To hell with that clock! Each step is shakier than the last. I haven't stood and walked for so long. It's not surprising that my legs feel like Jell-O.

Suddenly, I can hear the air around my ears as I fall to a horizontal position. My head cracks against the cold and rocky floor and my mind goes blank. I can see white specs in my vision before promptly passing out.

"Isabella," I hear a timid voice "M-Ms Isabella, please wake up," the voice is a bit louder this time. My only response is a quiet groan.

A small plate is shoved into my hands and the scent of some kind of food wafts to my nose. Whatever it is, it smells delicious. "H-Here's some food for you…" the voice sounds very quiet and shaky. I can hear a bit of nervous shuffling for a moment, and then all is silent.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

I feel a pair of shaky hands reach to the back of my head and untie my blindfold. In front of me sits a very shaky and timid-looking man.

But I really don't care. The food, I have to focus on the food! Dammit, this could be one of his games!

As quickly as I can possibly manage, I pick up the food with my bare hands and greedily shove it into my mouth, swallowing most of it whole and barely chewing it.

The man gives me a small half smile.

Wait a minute. This doesn't taste right. "Wh-What did you…?" I can barely finish my sentence. My eyes feel very heavy and my tongue feels thick with the drugged food I just ate.

My head meets the concrete once more and I am out like a light. 


End file.
